


Instrument of Fate

by Argyle



Category: Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-10
Updated: 2005-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:03:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argyle/pseuds/Argyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected visitor heralds a sympathetic heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Instrument of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken the liberty of assuming that Toad isn't as "reformed" as he claims to be at the end of the novel.

In the days of late spring, as the air was filled with the song of the River, it was not uncommon to feel a certain streak of contentment within one's heart. Such things were fragile even to the most able-bodied animal, and ought not to have been disturbed with the sharp movements or jarring sounds which ever accompany a sudden knock upon the door.

"Who on earth could that be?" murmured the Rat. "It's not yet eight o'clock -- far too early for visitors, wouldn't you say, Mole?"

"O, yes." The Mole nodded. "I _do_ say."

"It's best not to encourage solicitors at this hour, I find," he continued doggedly, nibbling at a piece of thin, heavily-buttered toast.

After a moment, as the knocking stopped, the soft, swelling sounds of the River came through the halls once more. A light breeze blew through an open window, catching at the lingering coals of the hearth and affably ruffling through the Rat's hair. It was the sort of day on which one would be compelled to begin an epic poem, lines crowded with the names of flowers and the chatter of birds, or perhaps even embark upon a great nov--

There came another set of knocks upon the door.

"Blast," the Rat said, pulling his spectacles away from the bridge of his nose as he turned towards the Mole. "This is really too much."

"You're certain that it's not Mr. Otter?" the Mole asked hopefully, a quiet smile playing across his mouth.

"Yes, I'm quite certain. He's on holiday with his family, just now."

"I see. And could it be..." the Mole trailed off. The sound suddenly stopped as though its source was out of breath, though it doubled back again with a renewed surge of fervor, mimicking a heraldic rhythm or the chimes of a great steeple. The Mole looked to the Rat, chuckling, "Shall I see who it is, then?"

"Ah, but I know exactly who it is. You may tell him that I simply won't have another subscription to _The World of Billiards_ ," said the Rat with a frown, glancing over the edge of his newspaper, "and that, really, any sort of civilized animal would leave it go at two knocks upon the door. Ten or more is _quite_ out of the question."

With a quiet laugh, the Mole set his cup to the table and slid down from his seat, making his way from the parlor to the entryway. The Rat, determined to appear resolved, buried his face in the newspaper once more, allowing his eyes to trace over an advertisement for seasonal birdseed, though he kept his ears at the ready.

"Yes, it is a very pleasant thing to see you," the Mole was saying in a hushed voice, "but Rat has specifically asked not to be disturbed this morning."

"Dear Mole, you are a most devoted creature, but Ratty _will_ see _me_ , I can guarantee it to you!" came the response. There was the sound of footsteps in the hall, soft at first and growing louder, and a notoriously infectious jingle of laughter.

The Rat cautiously sat forward in his chair and called, "I say, this intrusion is _most_ un-- O, hullo, Toad! What a surprise it is to have you."

"Hullo, Ratty! I thought perhaps that you two were out kite-flying or some such, though as usual, all you needed was a bit of coaxing. Another late night, was it? Ah, yes, but have you considered installing a doorbell? I know of a splendid electrician who could install one in no time at all! You even have a choice between the interpretive chimes of Wagner and Stephen Foster!"

"No, thank you," the Rat sighed. "You're well, I trust?"

"Yes, I'm feeling rather splendid, I must admit," Toad replied with a grin. "I slept very soundly last night, you see, and awoke with a most striking idea."

"Indeed?" The Rat imagined that he recognized the twinkle in Toad's eye as being something not entirely trustworthy, but then again, no, it was impossible. He knew with some amount of certainty that Toad had changed. "I am glad to hear it. Perhaps you'd like a bit of breakfast, then? We were just finishing, though I think that we, er, Mole would be more than happy to boil an egg for you." He smiled good-humoredly.

"Thank you, Rat," Toad said, setting a paw on the Mole's shoulder. "That is very kind of you to offer! An egg does sound exquisitely tempting, but alas, no, thank you. I've come here for a very specific purpose."

"Is that so?" asked the Rat, casually folding his newspaper.

"Yes." Toad nodded. The twinkle returned, briefly flaring, and receded once more. "I most definitely have."

"And what purpose is that, Toad?"

Grinning broadly, Toad stepped forward to say, "I have a surprise for you."

"I see," the Rat replied with a non-committing shrug. He took a sip of his tea, idly reminding himself to purchase more custard-filled biscuits the next time he was at the shops, and waited for Toad to continue. There was something odd about Toad today, though, or oddly familiar; the curl of his smile, perhaps, and the way that his silk was so loosely tied about his neck. In the past, had it been Toad's recklessness or merely his exuberance that got him into trouble? At length, the Rat prompted, "Well, do go on, then."

"Of course," Toad said, pulling up a chair. He poured himself a cup of tea, adding what was obviously far too much milk and sugar, and gazed into it for a moment before confiding, "Yesterday, I suddenly found myself quite stricken by the memories of my past missteps--"

"Or misdeeds," the Rat laughed.

"Hmm? Ah, but you are right, certainly." Toad nodded earnestly, sipping his tea. "My dear, Ratty, you are always right." He smiled. "Yes, but as I was saying, I remembered that your _charming_ little boat came to a rather, well, _unfortunate_ end last year. It was partly my own fault, I daresay, and I know that you were very fond of it."

The Rat cleared his throat, watching the Mole take a seat by his side. "That's all right," he said fondly, feeling a pinch in his stomach at the thought of the boat in its current state, unseen and covered in mud, lost at the bottom of the River. "It was a fine little craft, though I am sure I will eventually be able to find the proper moment to affor-- er, procure another one. Don't let it worry you."

"That's just what I'm on about!" Toad sprang up from his chair, overturning his half-empty teacup. With what could hardly be called a second glance towards the mess, he moved forward and set his paw against the Rat's arm, squeezing it gently. "You simply must see what I have brought you."

The Rat sighed, tossing a towel onto the spilled tea, his eyes tracing wearily from the Mole, down to the hearth, and finally back to Toad. "It's one of those ghastly motorcars, I should imagine. I seem to recall you mentioning -- or solemnly swearing, was it? -- that you were quite through with those mechanical monstrosities."

"It isn't and I have!" Toad cried. "You simply must believe me. I've never misled you before, have I?" he added significantly, setting his jaw as he visibly ignored the low sound of the Rat's laughter. "Now then, motorcars are a thing of the past... even the ones in glorious shades of candy apple red and canary yellow and bonnie bl--" he paused, grimacing. "I'll not have another. Not ever," he sighed, nodding with finality. "Come, Rat!"

"O, all right, Toad. Let's have a look."

Toad nodded, and with a spring in his step, he led the way out of the hole and into the open air. His hands placed behind his back, he stood very still by the riverbank and laughed, "See? What did I tell you? Splendid, isn't it?"

A small boat was tied to one of the great, sweeping boughs of the elm, bobbing slightly with the gentle motion of the water. It was painted a bright sort of yellow, faintly reminiscent of an April afternoon, or of the piping song of the meadow thrush. Across its side, Toad's name and a bold, triumphant coat-of-arms were sketched atop a curious silhouette of the River and a white tree, though the Rat reasoned that this was nothing a bit of paint couldn't remedy. The fastenings and fittings were perfectly poised, glinting as silver stars in the sunlight, and he imagined the feel of the oars in his paws as they would graze the water, first in the purest threads of excitement and later in honed sighs of exultation.

Yes, the Rat thought, it was surprisingly close in size and shape to the one that had been sunk. It would do very well. "O, indeed," he replied, struggling to keep his tone casual. He pushed his hands into his pockets and turned towards Toad, who was standing anxiously by his side. "It is very thoughtful of you."

"It is, isn't it?" Toad beamed, patting the Rat's shoulder. "I'm so pleased to know that you will make good use of it."

"Certainly," the Rat said, his mouth curling into a smile. He allowed his mind to let go of the various clouds of thought that at once asked what Toad would expect to receive in return, with or without assurances of goodwill. "Perhaps Mole and I will set out in it this afternoon, though I fear that it may rain."

"What, this afternoon? Rain? Nonsense!" Toad protested. He quickly looked to the boat and back to the Rat. "We must test it now! I'll not have it be otherwise."

"But really, Toad, we three couldn't possibly fit -- it's quite perfectly suited for two animals, but no more."

"I am sure that we will--"

"Don't worry, Ratty," the Mole cut in. His smile was one of affability rather than charisma. "I shan't mind staying here while you and Mr. Toad spend a while on the River. Really, I had planned to do a bit of fishing and, O dear, perhaps see what the ducks are busy with just now."

"There's a good lad!" Toad commended him. "Ducks are, er... most extraordinary animals, I always say, and quite familiar with the latest gossip and the changing whims of the world. I'm sure you'll have a jolly day on your own!"

The Rat sighed, hoping to appease both as he looked between his friends. "You're certain that you won't mind, Mole? If you would like for me to wait, just say so -- I do so hate to leave you all alone."

"Think no more of it," the Mole assured him, gently patting the Rat's shoulder. "Would you like to have the luncheon basket?"

"No, no." The Rat shook his head. "We oughtn't to be out for more than--"

"Yes, splendid!" Toad cried, tucking a paw inside the elbow of each of them, and strode forward. "I can never resist a good luncheon, and Ratty's are some of the very finest to be found, though perhaps in want of more gooseberry tarts and cream."

"Now, really, you needn't--" the Rat began.

"Yes, you're quite right, I'll wait here while you step inside to prepare things."

The Rat snorted and pushed his hands into his pockets as he followed the Mole back into the hole. In their time together, the Mole had become fairly adept at packing the large wicker basket, placing forks here and napkins there, the mustard jar atop and the clotted cream behind, and the Rat knew that he need only to wait for its completion and go about and choose the wine himself. He took his jacket from the peg; draping it about his shoulders, he straightened his cuffs.

Meanwhile, Toad was pacing across the embankment, pausing every few moments to glance into the hole and check on the Rat's progress. "Is everything ready?" he asked as the Rat stepped outside, moving steadily forward as the Mole heaved the basket before him, nearly toppling over until the Rat helped him to ease it down to the bottom of the boat. "Well, then, let us away!"

"You'll be all right?" the Rat said. "Just say the word and I'll wait for you."

"Yes, of course I'll be all right," replied the Mole rather pettishly. "You needn't cause a row about it, and really, Mr. Toad is waiting." He smiled. "Goodbye, Ratty! It was lovely to see you again, Mr. Toad!"

"Goodbye, Mole," the Rat laughed, settling himself into the boat. He reached forward to take the oars from Toad, who was grinning broadly and rocking them perilously close to the edge of the riverbank, side to side, until the Rat was able to straighten their bearings with a practiced ease. "Here, let me..."

Toad nodded, appearing suspiciously pleased with himself as he spread his arms atop the rail, and gave a light chuckle. "It is _so_ good to see you boating about on the River again, Ratty."

"Yes, I have found it rather trying to be without one, but really..." he trailed off with a smile, "we've done well for ourselves, Mole and I."

"Of course," Toad agreed with what was perhaps a touch of imperiousness.

"I must say, I'm glad to know that you've regained your interest in boats."

"My interest in boats?" Toad repeated incredulously.

"Why, yes. If you'd like, I could even teach you a thing or two about keeping it afloat. It's all in the wrist, really."

"That _does_ sound thoroughly remarkable, my dear."

The Rat found it very well to be out on the River again; the loss of his boat the previous summer had pained him more than he was ever able to admit. Even Toad seemed to be enjoying himself, his gaze alight as it met the Rat's own and at length fell and hung upon the Rat's paws. "Now then, old fellow," he laughed suddenly, thrusting the oars forward. "Where shall we go?"

"O, anywhere you would like." Toad nodded affably. The wideness of his eyes and the peculiar curve of his mouth were somehow unsettling.

"The backwater is always a pleasure on days such as this. Have you been there lately?"

"Me? O, no," Toad replied, "not for quite some time."

"Well, let us begin, then." The Rat raised a paw and waved to the Mole, whose form had dwindled to little more than a speck of dark fur upon the embankment, soon to entirely vanish from his sight.

"Capital!"

Toad then began to relate a story, his voice rising and falling as with the ebb and flow of the River, and the Rat retreated into his own meditations. He listened to the gentle splash of water against the sides of the boat and the rhythmic dashing of the sculls; Toad laughed, continuing, and the Rat occasionally replied with, "Good show," and, "Ah, that _was_ rather exciting, wasn't it?" and, "Yes, I see," all the while composing bits of rhyming verse in his head.

The sun was warm and kind as its rays touched the Rat's cheeks, and he began to feel wistfully rarefied as the boat moved onward; even the boisterous laughter of the moorhens became a hushed comfort within his ears. He was vaguely aware that Toad's doting remarks had increased, and that their paws seemed to brush together more often than they were customarily wont to do, though he made no comment.

If nothing else, the Rat instinctually knew to be wary of the erratic truths of Toad's behavior.

"I say, Ratty," Toad said some time later, his voice laced by stifled excitement. "Why don't we stop for a moment? I should love to have a bit of a rest, just now, and perhaps some of the claret that I seem to remember you packing into the basket. All of this rowing about and around, up and down, and back again has made me exceedingly thirsty."

"What?" The Rat arched a brow and nodded slowly, shaking himself from his reveries, then replied, "O, that's all right, then. We're just arriving in the backwater now."

Toad waited anxiously as the Rat brought the boat close to the riverbank and tied her fast, and the two hopped onto the shore and settled beneath the swelling bough of a willow. As the basket was unpacked and the various foods and utensils were spread atop the blanket, they were soon continuing their conversation over strawberries and cheese and cold chicken and deviled eggs, and sitting near to the Rat, Toad cried that it was all so perfectly delightful.

"I'm very glad to have such a friend as you, Ratty," he said with a conspiratorial smile.

"Ah, of course," the Rat said slowly, his eyes steady on Toad. "And I'm very glad that you've decided to keep your word."

"O, _that_ ," Toad sighed. "It is well, I suppose."

"Certainly." The Rat sipped his wine and shifted comfortably against the tree. "There are very few things that will clear an animal's mind of its burdens as boat-- ouf!" he coughed as Toad swiftly leaned forward and pulled him into an embrace. Their mouths touched, closely lingering, and broke apart as the Rat reeled backwards, greatly scandalized. He pushed himself up with his elbows, fully prepared to admonish Toad, though he paused as he saw the tears that had so suddenly begun to run down his friend's cheeks.

"Forgive me, forgive me, Ratty," Toad moaned, dabbing at his eyes with a heavy lace handkerchief. "You mustn't--"

"Look here!" replied the Rat, setting a paw to Toad's shoulder. He was careful to look in the other direction as Toad finished drying his cheeks. "Don't be foolish. It's only the wine, of course, and the sun, which has been most incessantly bright today."

"Yes, yes, the wine. Perhaps I'll have a bit more," Toad sighed. "But really, I've always wanted you to know..."

At length, the Rat prompted, "What is it?"

"O, it is only that..."

Their eyes met and an unspoken acknowledgment passed between them, though before Toad was able to continue or the Rat felt compelled to tighten his grasp upon his friend's shoulder, there was a ragged, garish, stirring sound and their gazes swept to the horizon together.

It was like nothing they had ever seen before, large and sputtering, swooping and soaring. Indeed, it was apparently attempting to write something in the sky: an advertisement for seasonal birdseed in enormous, billowing letters that shook with the put-put-puttering of the propeller. It was--

"An aeroplane!" Toad cried, suddenly standing up and brushing breadcrumbs from his waistcoat and trousers. "It's marvelous! It's delightful!"

" _What?_ "

"I've read about them in the papers," he explained hastily. "Don't you see, Ratty? To be so naturally and swiftly airborne! _This_ is the future!"

"Now, come," the Rat laughed uneasily, tugging upon Toad's sleeve. "Sit back down and finish your gherkins. I've had quite enough of this aeroplane nonsense for one day -- they're an absolute obscenity and I'll not hear another word that claims otherwise."

Toad was silent, though his smile broadened as the aeroplane approached the surface of the River; it nearly touched the water before rising once more, up and up until it was obscured by clouds.

With a half-hearted sigh, the Rat shook his head and began to repack the luncheon basket, idly irritated by Toad's lack of assistance. If Mole were here, he thought, _he_ would be a sensible creature _and_ make sure that each knife was returned to its proper place. It was more than a matter of mere decorum.

He said as much, balancing the basket upon his hip as he tugged Toad's arm and led him towards the boat. "Come along, then, Toady." Taking the oars in his paws, he continued, straining his voice into something that resembled cheeriness, "Shall we go down the River a bit more or start back?"

"A bit," Toad agreed, shifting against the side of the boat. He laughed faintly. "How marvelously delightful..."

"Toad, if you would kindly _sit down_ , we can be on our way."

"...delightfully marvelous..."

"Toad!"

Toad looked the Rat in the eye and smiled with unexpected determination and charm. "Yes, Ratty?"

"O, I was just..." The Rat frowned, struggling to remember what his argument had been. The aeroplane receded beyond the horizon, leaving only a fragmented line of letters and blackened, ill-smelling smoke in its wake. "That is to say--"

"Well, I'd best be off," Toad said, suddenly standing up again.

"Off?" the Rat scoffed. "Where will you go? We're miles away from Toad Hall!"

"Do you really think so? I suppose I had better begin now, then, hadn't I?"

"Don't be an ass, Toad, and stop moving about. You'll have us over if you don't sit down this instant!"

"I'm most frightfully sorry, Ratty, but there really is no other alternative. Farewell!" With that, Toad leaped from the boat, nearly capsizing it as he struggled to gain his footing on the embankment. His trouser-cuffs were quite soaked by the time he found any success, and he pulled himself up, straightening his waistcoat before hurrying away.

"Toad!" the Rat called after him, equally bewildered and annoyed as he tightened his grip on the sculls and straightened the tilt of the boat. Against the current of the river, he could hear the unmistakable chatter of Toad imitating the sounds of the propeller, put-put-puttering into the copse. " _Aeroplanes_ , indeed," he huffed. "What rot, what sheer, contemptible rot. The damned fool doesn't know the meaning of an animal's word... no acknowledgement for his own limitations. A flying toad," he snorted. "The thought alone is utterly ridiculous."

The Rat sighed heavily.

The sun had already begun its descent towards the horizon as he began to row homeward, and he knew that he would have to hurry in order to have everything fit and fastened to the dock before nightfall. As he shifted his grip upon the oars, he imagined meeting the Mole by the warmth of the fire; they would enjoy a hearty supper and he would speak of the boat's various nuances -- the Mole nodding and asking encouraging questions -- and perhaps they could even enjoy a nightcap before bed. They would set out together in the morrow, and have luncheon beneath the great boughs of the willow in the backwater.

Orange and violet light fell across his face, his paws, and he thought of Toad's brusque, unaccountable, and yet utterly predictable behavior; he thought of Toad's sudden embrace and the wild look in his eyes as their mouths had met.

On that day, it never rained, and the Rat knew that the Mole was waiting for him.


End file.
